Dust From Heavens Far
by Verity
Summary: Harry's dead, Hermione's confused, and Ron's oblivious as usual. Prelude to forthcoming goodness.


**_Dust From Heavens Far,_ by Verity**

_  
Disclaimer: What's JKR's belongs to her. What's mine is mine – don't steal.  
Authorial Note: This is the first you've seen of me in a long time, although it's been posted other places (greatestjournal, where you will find me under the handle_ missverityemory_). I have more in the works - consider this a pleasant prelude, an appetizer rather than an entree. _

It was nearly dawn when Hermione came home. She took the key out from beneath the flower pot and let herself into the flat; the door squeaked as it opened.

"'Ermione?" Ron asked the air faintly. She sighed, dropped her hat and bag onto the table, and went into the bedroom.

"I'm home, I'm home, I'm sorry. Go back to sleep." He rolled over on his side, naked beneath the coverlet. Hermione pulled it up to cover his shoulders, then looked at him in the half-light, all red hair and wiry muscle.

In the shower she thought about Harry, more out of habit than anything. She massaged the herbal shampoo into her scalp; thought of his smile.

When she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, the alarm had already gone off and Ron was rummaging in his underwear drawer. She kissed him tiredly, and went to bed.

- - - - -

In the afternoon, when she could think straight, Hermione had a cup of coffee and sat down with the latest medical journal. At one point, she recalled, she had been truly enthusiastic about becoming a mediwizard. Now, she sat and turned the pages without much interest, reading about the latest advances in oncology.

Her pager beeped. "Fuck," she said, picking it up off the counter. But it was only Ginny.

She decided to use the Floo. "Hallo," said Ginny, when the connection had been made. "Your fire was out."

"Sorry. It's July after all. I suppose I haven't been thinking."

"Almost Harry's birthday."

"Yes, there is that."

"Let the fire go out if you need it to." Ginny tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Mum wants to know if you'll come to dinner next week."

Hermione looked away from the fire, towards her bookcase on the right side of it. "Maybe, if we're free."

"You're not the only person who's ever been unhappy, 'Mione."

"I know," she said, idly plaiting a few strands of her hair together. "Things will come back together eventually, I'm sure."

"I would understand-"

"No, Ginny, it's all right." Hermione smiled. "Would you like to come in for tea?"

"Perhaps it's best if I don't; Mum's in a mood. Think about dinner?"

"Mmm. I'll try."

When the Floo connection closed, Hermione went into the kitchen again. Her journal's pages had been ruffled by the wind breeze from the open window. She decided it was pointless and left the journal where it lay.

- - - - -

Harry had died at Hogwarts. So had quite a lot of other people. Hermione dreamt about it vividly. She had agreed to move in with Ron after school ended so that she wouldn't have to wake up after the nightmares alone. It had worked out well enough.

Sometimes Hermione was able to forget about everything when they were together.

That afternoon she went to visit Luna Lovegood.

"Hallo, hallo," said the parrot in the hall. "_Sapristi!_"

"No Chopin for you," said Luna, as she wheeled herself down the hall. "Hallo, Hermione. Tea?"

"No," Hermione said, but found herself drinking it anyway, when seated at the table. "Have you heard from him lately?"

"No," said Luna, and she tilted her head thoughtfully. "You know I keep my ears out. But I don't hear from him anymore. I think he's passed."

Hermione lowered her gaze to her cup and saucer.

"Drink your tea," said Luna.

She drank.

- - - - -

Hermione came home to find dinner waiting for her.

"Here," said Ron, opening the door and handing her a bouquet of roses. "I thought you'd enjoy a surprise for once." She said nothing at first, then looked up at him. "I know, dearest."

She wondered if everyone was in on the secret. "What?" she asked lightly, and kissed him.

After dinner, he carried Hermione to bed, smiling at her. She leaned her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat as he held her carefully.

Ron eased open the door to their room, then laid her on the bed. He reached out and stroked her cheek, ruffled her hair.

"I love you," she murmured, telling the truth and lying at the same time.

- - - - -

"Have you filed for your apprenticeship yet?" Eloise Midgen asked her at the lab.

Hermione carefully added the powdered unicorn horn to the beaker before her. "No."

"It's awfully late, Hermione. Aren't you concerned?"

"Not especially. Can you hand me the ambrosia?"

"Sorry. Here."

Hermione watched as the particles of powder swirled in the solute. Brownian motion. Her hand shook a little bit as she added the ambrosia.

"I'm tired of competing," she murmured absently.

"What?" asked Eloise. As she turned from the supply cabinet, she dropped a vial of ambrosia onto the floor. "_Oh!_"

"Now see what you've done."

Hermione cut her hand cleaning up the glass. She stared at the ruby red droplets of her oxygenated blood for a minute, fascinated, then wiped her fingers off hurriedly on a paper towel.


End file.
